Our first Christmas tree

Remember the small but personally important things

Sick again. It always happens when I’ve got a million deadlines and zero sleep.

In one week, was midtown, downtown, the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Harlem,  and Spanish Harlem. Was kinda in a daze for mosta it.

Most things are due this Friday so there’s a small chance this may be the only post of the week.

Then again, do my best work under pressure. At least that’s what I tell myself.


We did manage to pick up a tree at – of all place – our local bodega. Also picked up some lights at the local drugstore and soon had our first Xmas tree.

Me: Now it feels like Christmas.

Suppose that’s one of the main reasons I keep writing this blog – and I’m one of the few that still do. Cause it forces me to write down the small but personally significant things.

Especially since I’ve been so drugged out on cough medicine and lack of sleep, it took me a few moments to notice something was wrong when I returned home from a client over the weekend.

Me: Ah, the tree…wait, why’s the tree in the sink?
Her: Long story.

Have said that the time between Thanksgiving and Xmas is my favourite time of year. Am hoping that I’ll be able to enjoy some of it soon.

Off again…

Location: another day, another meeting
Mood: sick
Music: I went to see the doctor. I’d come down with the blues.
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Sleepy Logan and Bachelor Cooking


Last night was particularly rough in terms of the insomnia.

Don’t write much about it any more because if I did, this blog would be one endless post about my not being able to sleep peppered with occasional mentions of rum, wrasslin, fencing, and dropping something. Managed to get about three hours of sleep last night with a client meeting this morning at 9:30.

And I think I’m coming down with something.

When I was younger, used to get a lot done when I couldn’t sleep. Had a separate persona I called Sleepy Logan who did all sortsa stuff for me.

For example, on more than one occasion, I’d wake up and there’d be a pot of chili sitting on my stove and I’d think, “Ah, Sleepy Logan made some chili.” Amongst other things, he’d also learned German, organized my books by colour, and renamed my files to “subject – year.month.day.”

Now I just lie still and hope to catch just a little more sleep.

I’m told it’s the better way to go but on nights like last night, wonder if it’s just not better for Sleepy Logan to visit.

———-

On a somewhat related point, my brother asked me about the old Bachelor Cooking episodes Rain and I did and realized they weren’t up any longer. So I’m reposting episode one. Rain’s probably got a better quality version somewhere.

Partly because of this video, made a concerted effort not to talk so much with my hands.

It’s not been all that successful. Even less so when I get no sleep.

Location: somewhere between kinda awake and kinda asleep
Mood: exhausted
Music: nothing to do waiting for the sun to rise
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Glutton for punishment

Lobster and oysters on the half-shell in downtown New York City NYC

Went out with a buddy to a banquet with lobster and oysters on the half-shell. For some reason, tend to drink Old Fashions there insteada my usual rum. Got raunchily ill the next day and through the weekend; felt like my innards were doing somersaults. Did manage to head over to the gym to wrestle but not without rushing to the restroom in the middle of the class.

Speakinga wrestling, WM came by to practice some fencing and then we hopped into his whip to head over to the boogie-down Bronx to check out my buddy’s first MMA match. He did phenomenally, dominating the guy at every position from every point – despite the guy outweighing him. It’s parta why I enjoy my class so much: we emphasize skill overcoming violence versus violence for violence’s sake.

In other news, work’s gotten busy again, in contrast to the usual summer slowdown, so that means hustling all over the map.

Finally feel well enough to have some coffee. Wish me luck.

Grappling bout in the Bronx NYC

Location: staring at a cuppa joe, wondering if I should drink it
Mood: weak
Music: Doesn’t everybody deserve to have the good life?
YASYCTAI: Set up a doctor’s appointment for a check up. (15 mins/0.5 pts)
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It’s been a weird (and gross) week so far.

Her: He’s alive!
Me: Barely…

Food poisoning. Unpleasant. Very unpleasant.

Was fine until about 2AM the other night when I started getting the chills and ended up in a cold sweat. Got outta bed when my legs gave way and I crashed onto the floor. Never happened to me before.

HG woke up and asked why I was on the floor – don’t remember what I said. She said that I said that I had to get to my phone to tell my gym partner I wasn’t going to be able to show up the next morning to wrestle. Ha, even in the depths of delirium, I’m responsible.

When I didn’t come back, HG said she found me curled up in the fetal position in the other room and had to drag me back to bed. That part I kinda remember.

So, had my first work-free day in a while the other day. Not the ideal way to get it but y’take what y’can get.

On the topic of gag-inducing things, been to many places in my life – a horse farm, landfill, etc. But last week, went to the single most horrid smelling place I’d ever been to in 37 years on the planet: a chicken farm. Can only imagine what it smelled like in summer.

It’s been a weird (and gross) week so far.

Location: bed, all day
Mood: drained
Music: come to me, run to me, do and be done with me, cold
YASYCTAI: Take a break (24 hours/2 pts)
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Play the game

Location: heading to see the accountant
Mood: still sick
Music: get knocked down, but I get up again

NYC Fighting gym

Her
: What happened to you?!
Me: (holding arm) Fencing.
Her: You’re 36, why don’t you learn to knit?

Falling apart. Sick and, for some reason, my wrist’s in excruciating pain. Don’t recall doing anything to it.

S’a bit sad; my skills’re better than they’ve ever been (which is, admittedly, not saying much). But my body’s betraying me. Injuries take forever to heal, my stamina’s crap, my reflexes’re non-existent. While I was bad before, I’m terrible now.

Thankfully, the reality’s that I’ll never actually ever get into a real fight.

Some’ll find it silly, prepping for something that’ll never come. But there’re things that it teaches you that other things don’t.

Firsta all, movie stuff ‘s movie stuff. Real violence’s nasty, smelly, and…drippy. Y’want no parta it, lemme tell ya. Fight Club? That was written by a dude that’s never been in a fight in his life.

But it also teaches you how t’play the your game. It’s the stupid wrestler that tries to box a boxer; ditto for a boxer trying to grapple witha grappler. If it’s taught me anything it’s: never play someone else’s game. Fastest way to a whooping.

And, without sounding all Hallmark-y, it teaches y’to get up when someone’s trying his darndest – like for serious – to beat y’down. That’s something.

Just as the runner who runs though there’s nuthing to run for or run to, or the mountain-climber that climbs a big-ass rock just cause he can, I do it cause I dunno how to do anything else.

So I put on a ridiculous outfit, pop in the mouth guard, and pray that my insurance’s paid up this month.

Her: What happened now?!
Me: (limping) Wrestling.
Her: What about yoga?


YASYCTAI
: Hit the gym. It’s one-thirda your life. (60 mins/2 pts)

Time¬=Money; Time>Money

Time isn’t money; time is so much more valuable than money

Antique clock

 

To add to the list of things that have the air of truth to them but no real truth at all, lemme give you one I particularly despise: Time Equals Money.

A buddy of mine put up this thing quoting just that and it reminded me that that’s gotta be one of the stupidest beliefs a body could hold.

Time is so much more valuable than money. Money, you can make and spend; time you can only spend.

Put another way, if given X years to live, how much would you pay for one more year?

Any idiot can make a buck. But in 432,329,886,000,000,000 seconds, no one’s figured out how to make an extra second for themselves.

Working at jobs you hate, to buy things you don’t need, to impress those you don’t know. That’s crazy.

So, if given the chance to make an extra $1,000 or go see your grandma, go see your grandma.

I didn’t and I gotta live with that for all of the seconds I got left.

———-

Sick again. You know the drill, please send soup.

Location: in bed
Mood: sick
Music: with you I’m having a good time I don’t mind
YASYCTAI: At least give her a call. (10 mins/1 pt)

Clear

 

Went for a walk with my girl downtown this past weekend. Maybe that’s what made me sick again. Was worth it though. There’re few things in life as a walk down Central Park and Broadway on a nice day. Saw a girl in a cat costume with a hula hoop.

Been taking all of the junk I found cleaning my cellar and selling it on ebay, craigslist, you name it. Found this one dress with a price tag that said $14,000 in there and more computers than y’can shake a stick at.

Some things I remember, some things I have no idea how they got there. Story of my life, yeah?

In A Study in Scarlet, Sherlock Holmes said to Watson that the mind’s like an attic – you can only have so much crap in it before you run outta room.

Einstein echoed this when he said that, Never memorize what you can look up in books.

But I digress, point is that I’m tossing a lotta old stuff to make room for new stuff.

Still sick – my head’s stuffy. But I’m trying to clear things out. Wanna unclutter my mind and suppose that starts with uncluttering everything else.

Location: 16:00 yest, Grand Central
Mood: still @#$@#$ sick
Music: Singing to my pillow, I woke up out of tune.

Words

Location: having a gyro with my pop east of 11354
Mood: still sick
Music: lemme light your candle, cause mama I’m sure hard to handle


Her
: You getting closer to normal.
Me: You mean, “normalcy.”
Her: (shaking head) Well, you just took a step back.

Woke up this morning and fixed myself a killer filtered ground bean soup with cow-baby food. But just cause I can’t go a day without it, also had some roasted mashed peas with pre-digested insect vomit and baked wet flour along with it. Big fan of insect vomit. Especially when I’m sick. Wish I had liquid from a citrus reproductive unit to go with it but no luck.

Heartgirl just boiled some water with vegetables and dissolved insect vomit cause my cold’s coming back.

Stupid cold.

———-

Agree with Obama’s assertion that the phrase, Just words, is insulting. Words’re how we organize the world around us, not just to other people but to ourselves.

Was out with my girl the other day and we heard a guy just screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs in middle of Columbus Circle. And the people around him were visibly uncomfortable.

Look, sometimes few things match the situation better than expletive. And sometimes, y’gotta cut some people slack cause it’s the only vocabulary they got.

But what if it’s not? Cause, sometimes cursing’s just cursing, and that’s fine. But sometimes cursing’s showing the other person how y’process the world.

And that might not be what y’want.

———-

Woke up this morning and fixed myself a killer cafe au lait. But just cause I can’t go a day without it, also had some peanut butter and honey on a biscuit with it. Big fan of honey. Especially when I’m sick. Wish I had some lemon juice to go with it but no luck

Heartgirl just made me some tea with honey cause my cold’s coming back.

Damn cold.

YASYCTAI: Clean up that stack of magazine: read or toss. (240 mins/2 pts)

Heartgirl’s surprise elements

new york city, nyc, Astor place, St. Marks

Spent the last two months planning a surprise birthday for Heartgirl.

Everyone should have a nice surprise from time-to-time. Mine are always of the, “Think you should sit down,” ilk.

Started off with a buncha her friends at a tapas joint Saturday. Four pitchers of sangria and 24+ plates of food later, waddled off to M1-5, where we threw the opening party for 72nd to Canal. Heartgirl was totally surprised.

Her best friend brought a huge cake (and I forgot Clara, my newest camera). We barely made a dent in it. Interestingly, her best friend’s also Irish and her husband’s also Asian. He and I spent the tail end of the night picking at the cake. Mainly cause we just don’t let things go to waste like that.

Rain, Paul, Tess, WM, Gio and Hazel all made an appearance too, if only just to drink with me. We had a whole section to ourselves. It was 2AM when we left and 4AM when we called it a night.
Cabdriver: (pointing to her) She drunk?
Me: Yes, but she’s not going to boot in your car.
Her: I’m Irish. We don’t do that.

Sunday, Heartgirl and I took the whip out in a misguided attempt to go shopping in the burbs. The reason why it was misguided is best illustrated with Boolean logic:

Elements (in)

  • Gut-wrenching nausea (Gwn)
  • Hangover (H)
  • Heatgirl (Hg)
  • Logan (L)
  • Rum (R)
  • Wine (W)
  • Sundry alcoholic products (S)

Where

  • + = “and”
  • ~ = “not” or “no”
  • = “but not”
  • = = “results in”


Ergo

  • L+R=~H
  • Hg+W+S-R=H+Gwn

In short, my trip to the burbs was ill-conceived at best.

However, Heartgirl did note that she enjoyed her birthday greatly. She said she was glad she spent it with me, then fell asleep on my couch as I went off to church.

———-

In other news, the buddy that swung by last time when that woman was screaming Chinatown came by again and brought me out for Malaysian food on his per diem. Man, I miss having a diem.

And I’m becoming a chunky monkey. Gotta start working out again. Stupid cold…

Location: 20:00 yest, ordering the Roti on 72nd
Mood: busy ~sick
Music: count to five Let’s craft the only thing we know into surprise
YASYCTAI: Try some new cuisine. Like Spanish tapas. (60 mins/1 pt)

Lies and Ties

Location: 14:00 yest, being told to rinse and spit in Queens (again)
Mood: still sick
Music: The sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing

The original NYC police station

My brother’s in town and he’s helping fix somea the computers here.

Him: Apparently somebody’s been plagiarizing mom’s articles and reprinting them online.
Me: How can you tell?
Him: (laughing) She told me…and she’s a got a folder that’s named, Someone copy my article.

———-

Heartgirl told me recently that she doesn’t know what to tell people when they ask what I do for a living. S’funny, all of the women I dated’ve said the same thing. Mosta my friends don’t know.

It’s…complicated, how I make my money.

I’ve a particularly odd skillset but the funny thing’s that I’m very good at a several, seemingly unrelated things. But if I had to sum it up to in one unifying idea, it’s that I collect and process data.

Writing, in fact, is an example of my processing data; I take various disparate concepts, weave them to one (hopefully) coherent argument and distill that to a printed page.

On that note, I’ve gotta pick one of these skillsets sooner than later.

Me: I’m thinking of being an officer of the court again.

Him: (laughing) They’re no different than us cept they wear ties.

Someone copy my article

YASYCTAI: Organize your computer files. (10 hrs/2 pts)